Chapter 6
6
I had to bolster my courage before entering the water tunnel. Alodie was right; it was beautiful during the day. The rays of sun that speared down from above lightened the water to a vibrant turquoise, and fish swam on all sides. Some were ordinary species I’d caught near Tumbledown, but others were exotic and colorful, their scales gleaming like jewels. The lake bed stretched away in either direction, punctuated by outcroppings of rock and drifting plants.
It felt surprisingly peaceful considering how quickly the water could kill an intruder, and I remembered how Alodie’s shoulders had lost their tension the moment she’d entered the tunnel. As a school of sparkling orange fish darted up to investigate me, I felt certain I was welcome here, a bone-deep comfort so abrupt and foreign it must have been part of the house’s magic.
I tried to retrace my steps from the previous night, but soon I was hopelessly lost. Mistei wasn’t a golden castle in the middle of a cavern as my mother had believed—it was a huge labyrinthine city, and with no sky above to show me the position of the sun or stars, it all looked the same. The corridors were far brighter this morning, lit by torches and the same embedded ceiling crystals that had reflected dawn’s light into my room this morning, but it still felt oppressive. Normally I’d be collecting treasure in the bog right now, not trapped deep underground.
My heart clenched at the thought of my collection. I’d never even gotten to show Anya the doll I’d found.
The pain of that realization felt like glass embedded in my chest, drawing blood with each heartbeat. I knew from losing my mother that grief had countless small traps like this—not just the big ache of missing someone, but the small cuts of memories or wishes. People vanished all at once, but the things you wanted to tell them or do with them or show them didn’t.
After an hour of walking, I accepted I would never make it back to the throne room. I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, and this path spiraled upward. I stayed on the main slope rather than investigating the doors that beckoned to the right and left. Most were closed, but occasionally I caught glimpses of empty chambers, cozy sitting rooms, or libraries. There was even a row of small shops where Underfae hunted for fabric, glassware, and jewelry.
The path widened as it climbed. Torches flickered in elaborately carved sconces, and the ceiling crystals beamed down the brilliant light of midday. Near the top of the slope, the crystals disappeared and only torches lit the path forward, their reflected light shimmering off the obsidian walls.
The ramp leveled out, and a wide room opened before me. Forbidding stone statues lined the sides, and slicing through the middle of the room, blocking any further advance, was a curtain of fire.
“Amazing,” I whispered to myself, staring in awe at the vast, crackling sheet of flame.
As I walked closer, one of the statues turned its head to look at me. Not a statue, I realized with a start. A gargoyle-like Underfae. The creature was charcoal-colored with a ridged brow, twisted horns, and heavy wings. Its back was stooped, and as it stepped towards me, its front claws trailed against the floor, making an eerie scraping sound that lifted the hair on my arms.
I turned to make my escape…and ran directly into another gargoyle.
Its eyes burned with rage as it gripped my wrist, its claws digging into my skin. “Trespassers must burn,” it said in a voice like boulders tumbling down a mountain.
Then it began dragging me towards the fire.
“Please let me go,” I begged, trying to pull away, but the gargoyle wouldn’t be deterred. It yanked on my wrist, forcing me to stumble behind it or be dragged.
The fire took up my entire field of vision, an enormous, writhing wall that stretched to a distant, smoke-blackened ceiling. Sweat poured down my face and my skin tightened under the onslaught of painful heat. Soon that heat would grow agonizing, and if the gargoyle tossed me in…
Death by fire would be excruciating.
“I didn’t mean to come here. I don’t even know where I am. Please!”
The gargoyle snarled and shook me. I went limp, trying to slow its progress by burdening it with my full body weight, but it muscled forward as if I weighed nothing at all. I kicked at it and scrabbled against the floor, begging for my life as its claws drew blood from my bruised wrist.
Heat battered me as the flames drew near. The dagger was writhing down my free arm, pulsing in time with my frantic heartbeats, but whatever it meant to do wouldn’t happen fast enough. We were only feet away from the fire now. The gargoyle gripped my shoulders, preparing to push me in.
“Stop.”
A clear male voice sliced through the crackle of flame. The gargoyle stopped instantly.
“Release her.”
It unhooked its claws from me, and I shoved away from the fiery wall. I crashed to the floor…and found myself staring up at a bemused-looking Noble Fae.
It was Drustan, the rakish and impossibly handsome prince who had winked at me in the throne room. This close, I could see streaks of crimson, blond, and black in his copper hair, so like the shifting colors of the flames behind me. He wore a loose red shirt tucked into tight black trousers, and a rapier hung from his golden belt.
Amusement flickered in his eyes, which were gray like ash. “Already getting in trouble?”
I scrambled to my feet and curtsied, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the gargoyle hadn’t pursued me. Thankfully, it was slouching its way back to its post. I returned my attention to Prince Drustan, struggling to talk past the fear that still clogged my throat. “I got lost. Please forgive me. I’ll go now.”
He stilled me with a hand on my left arm. “Wait.”
On my other arm, the dagger shivered against my skin. Its frenetic pulsing had slowed, and now I couldn’t tell if the tremor was a warning or just the dagger’s way of letting me know that Drustan was powerful. What would he do to me? Wherever I was, I had clearly trespassed.
Prince Drustan was taller than me by a full head. He touched my chin with surprisingly hot fingers, nudging my face up. I struggled not to look away from the power reflected in that gaze. Magic emanated from him in rippling waves, and the air around him looked distorted. “Do you know where you are?”
Maybe it was foolish to admit ignorance to one of the Noble Fae, but what else could I do? “No, my lord. I mean, my prince.”
He smiled, revealing even white teeth. “That’s a good thing. Otherwise I’d ask why Earth House is sending spies to Fire territory.”
Fire was one of the five Fae houses. I remembered Alodie’s advice and winced. You can’t enter any other house’s territory without permission. Only an hour into my explorations and I had already broken a fundamental rule—and nearly paid for it with my life.
“I didn’t realize.” I tried to back away, but he held my chin firmly. “I knew the Fae wielded elemental magic, but I only just learned about your houses.”
Drustan looked surprised. “Really? Your leaders didn’t tell you about Mistei?”
“They did, but a lot can be forgotten in a thousand years.”
“For humans, I suppose that’s true.” He let go of my chin at last, but this time I resisted the urge to retreat. I’d shown enough weakness already. He cocked his head, studying me. “So you ran across the bog to a place you know little about. Why? It didn’t look like you were even chosen for that ritual.”
Sweat beaded on my forehead and my palms were damp. His expression was pleasant, but this encounter felt dangerous. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but my body knew something my mind didn’t yet. “To save a friend,” I said through a thick throat. If he’d truly been watching, he knew how that had ended.
He waited for several seconds as if leaving me room to offer up more, but I didn’t owe him Anya or my grief. Finally, he nodded. “You risked your life to help someone else. An admirable trait. What is your name?”
“Kenna, my prince. Kenna Heron.”
Those gray eyes were still fixed on me; I wondered what thoughts moved behind them. “Well, Kenna, I can appreciate a noble sacrifice.” His smile slid towards a smirk. “And I bet quite a bit of gold on you making it the farthest, so there’s no reason to sully that victory now. Let me walk you back to safer territory.”
Relief rushed out of me on an exhale. Whatever his reasons, the prince was being merciful. “Thank you, my prince.”
He turned, then beckoned for me to follow. I had to jog to catch up with his long strides, but with every step away from the fire my sense of relief grew. As we approached the ramp, a few servants appeared. They were similar in appearance to Alodie, but their red hair crackled with electricity and their eyes glowed like embers. Fire asrai. They bowed deeply in deference to the faerie at my side.
He clicked his tongue after we passed them. “I’ve asked them not to bow when we’re in house territory. Or at least not to bow so low—they’re going to tip over if they’re not careful.”
“Why wouldn’t they bow?” I asked. “You’re a prince.” Even Elder Holman had expected people to bow to him, and he’d been nothing but a small village leader. Drustan was immortal royalty.
“I don’t particularly enjoy protocol. It too often creates an atmosphere of fear rather than engendering loyalty.”
Another Underfae curtsied as we descended the ramp.
“Then why do they still bow if you’ve asked them not to?”
“I rose to the position of prince a few decades ago, which is a short time in Fae memory. The servants have not overcome old habits yet.” He smiled at me. “But I’ll convince them eventually.”
This wasn’t what I had expected from a Fae prince after witnessing that brutal scene in the throne room. He was charming, and he didn’t speak to me like I was a servant. Still, my nerves prickled with apprehension. As we wound our way down the ramp together, I could hardly breathe from the nearness of him, the unnatural heat of him. I was both afraid and enchanted. I wanted to leave his presence as soon as possible, yet part of me protested at the thought.
The Elder had been right about this characteristic of the Noble Fae: one look and a human could be entranced.
“Are the leaders of the other houses as casual about protocol?” I dared to ask, struggling to conceal my nervousness in the face of all that beauty and power. “In the throne room it seemed otherwise.”
He laughed, sharp and hard. “Not in the slightest. I’m doing my best to make Fire House a less restrictive place, but the others adore their protocol.” He eyed me consideringly. “Though I hear Blood House was more aligned with my personal preferences, back when they still existed.”
“Blood House?” Alodie hadn’t mentioned that ominous-sounding one.
He pressed a finger to his lips. “Quietly, if you please. It’s actually best for servants not to speak that name at all if you can help it. Not in other company, at least.”
Whether his chattiness was on a whim or had some other unknown motivation, I needed to seize every scrap of information he offered. “Forgive me, my prince. I just didn’t know there was a sixth house.”
He was still looking at me with that assessing quality to his gaze. “Your knowledge is severely lacking.”
“Yes.”
After a long pause, he sighed. “You’re going to blunder into trouble if you don’t know this history. Well, more trouble than you already have.” He beckoned me closer, then lowered his voice to just above a whisper even though there was no one nearby. “Fire, Void, and Blood rebelled against King Osric some five hundred years ago. Before I was born,” he clarified at my wide-eyed look. “Fire and Void saw the error of their ways, but Blood did not. The house was eliminated.”
The stark words sent a shiver through me. “And the other houses supported the king?”
“Illusion and Light have always supported him, but Earth is neutral in all conflicts. It’s a point of pride for them but deeply irritating to Osric.”
Maybe that was why the king had liked the idea of insulting Princess Oriana and Lady Lara. “What are the powers of each house?” I pressed, hungry for more information.
“You’re a very curious woman.” The corners of his lips pulled upward again. He didn’t seem to be able to go long without smiling, though it was impossible to tell if his show of good cheer was genuine. “A useful trait.”
I just raised my eyebrows, silently asking again.
“The houses are paired into opposing twins,” Drustan said, relenting. “Earth controls the terrestrial elements, and Fire controls anything in the natural world beyond that. Flame is our favorite, thus the name, but we have some power over air, wind, and weather as well.” He lifted a hand, and fire crackled over his fingertips before vanishing.
“Void House controls darkness and emptiness. They can eliminate light and create monsters from nothing but the night air. They can rip holes in the universe that will crush a faerie into nothingness. Their opposite is Light, which, as you can imagine, casts light. Their second great power is that they are mostly immune to the magic of others—they will quickly see through an illusion and are more resistant to mystical fire. They prefer to fight their battles with weapons and brute strength.”
He must have seen my shiver, because he leaned down to whisper the next words, his hot breath painting the curve of my ear. “Void House wears black, and Light House wears white. I’d stay away from both, if I were you.”
I remembered the calculated coldness of the black-clad killer who had suggested giving me to Earth House as an insult. He must be from Void House, while Roland, the sadistic prince who had suggested killing me, hailed from Light House. “What about Illusion?”
“Illusion can change what the mind perceives. They can cast images and make you hear and feel things that aren’t real, and they use manipulation and trickery to get what they want. The king was the Prince of Illusion before he took the throne. Now he is king of all Mistei, and there are no princes or princesses in his house.” I wondered at the flatness of Drustan’s tone, but his expression revealed nothing.
“And Blood?” I asked.
Someone was coming up the ramp—another asrai who stopped and curtsied at the sight of us. Drustan nodded at them in acknowledgment. Once we were past the Underfae, he took my left arm and pulled me aside. His fingers were long and strong, and the heat of his touch sank through my sleeve. The prince leaned in to whisper in my ear again, and though I braced myself for that puff of heat and the nearness of his lips, a quiver went through me anyway.
“You really should be careful about when and how you say that name,” he said. “You earned me a lot of gold last night, so I’m giving you an introduction to Mistei in exchange, but others among the Noble Fae won’t tolerate a servant speaking about the lost house. And you never know who might be listening in the shadows.”
Unease crawled down my spine. Torchlight danced over the obsidian walls, and for a moment it seemed as if the stone was alive and breathing. Still, it seemed hypocritical for Drustan to tell me about Blood House with one breath and then admonish me for my continuing curiosity with the next. “You’re the one who brought them up,” I pointed out, staring at him in steady challenge. “My prince.”
He grinned, and my heart pounded in response. “Not just curious but bold. I knew the second I saw you that you were the strongest of the lot, no matter how short you were.”
I scowled at the cavalier mention of the other women. “How were you watching us run, anyway?”
“King Osric casts an illusion on the wall so we can watch the hunt. He finds it entertaining.”
My eyes burned and I looked away, clenching my fists to contain my rage. My nails inscribed sharp arcs of pain into my palms. “Entertaining? The others died.”
I could feel him watching me. “They always do,” Drustan said, but his tone was softer this time. “Except for you.”
We had reached the bottom of the ramp, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the obsidian walls were replaced with gray stone. We were back in the main tunnels. “I can find my way from here,” I said. Maybe . His presence was too unnerving, too stimulating, and I needed distance to clear my mind. I curtsied. “Thank you.”
When I rose, his expression was deadly serious. “I meant what I said. Stay away from Light and Void. And Illusion, for that matter.”
I raised my brows. “But Fire is perfectly safe?” My near demise said otherwise.
“Fire is…open-minded, shall we say. We have friends in many places throughout Mistei.”
It was a subtle offer, I realized. To be a friend of Fire House. The problem was, I didn’t know what that meant.
I nodded, eager to get away so I could think in peace. “Thank you again, my prince.”
“On the note of protocol,” he said, “hearing ‘my prince’ every other sentence gets tedious. Calling me Drustan would be inappropriate in front of other Noble Fae, but I have no qualms about hearing my name in more…private contexts.” He winked at me, and I flushed. “And my friends are afforded certain privileges.”
Again he gave that word— friends —a slight weight. The dagger twitched against my arm again, matching the quivering unease that filled me. Prince Drustan was charming, but I got the sense this conversation hadn’t just happened because of a prince’s whim. He’d been testing me somehow, not just educating me.
I curtsied. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
His gaze seemed to burn into my back long after I’d left him behind.